The last step ended in darkness.
Zealth didn't know how and didn't care.
His boot touched damp stone, and the smell caught him first.
Rot.
Wet earth.
Old air.
Something sour slept beneath it, thick enough to crawl down his throat. It smelled like the cavern had swallowed corpses for years and had never bothered to bury them properly.
He stopped at the foot of the stairs.
"…Lovely," he muttered. "A hidden dungeon with the fragrance of seven-day double-dead pork."
Far behind him, the stone door had sealed. Ahead, a wide stone arch rose from the dark, large enough for wagons to pass through. Ancient symbols covered its surface, carved deep into the stone, sharper than the ones on the pillar outside. They looked important, threatening, and completely unreadable.
Zealth stared at them for a moment.
"These symbols make me feel illiterate."
He opened the dungeon map.
A translucent panel unfolded before him, spreading pale light across the floor. He skimmed the map, swiping, trying to find where it ends.
Unfortunately, most of the map was black, swallowed by unexplored fog. Only one narrow path showed itself, curving from the entrance into the massive chamber ahead. Farther inside, a red dot flickered.
His marker.
The place he had come for.
Zealth looked at the distance.
Then at the darkness.
Then back at the marker.
"Wonderful. No turning back now."
He closed the map and pulled the seal charm from his inventory.
The charm was small and circular, with a black stone bound by thin silver chains. Faint letters shifted beneath its surface like trapped insects. He pressed it against his chest and activated it.
Cold threaded into his armor and sank beneath his skin.
The constant pressure of Intimidation folded inward.
Not gone.
Contained.
A panel appeared.
Unique Skill Suppression Active
Status: Intimidation Sealed
Duration: 02:00:00
Warning: Forced release may cause backlash.
Zealth read the warning and sighed.
"Backlash. Will the monsters be charmed by me if I forced release?"
He stepped through the arch.
The chamber opened before him like the inside of a buried kingdom.
Massive stone pillars rose into the dark ceiling, some still standing, others broken and scattered across the ground. Walls curved around the space, half-swallowed by vines, moss, and roots that had forced themselves through every crack. Water dripped somewhere above, falling in slow, lonely beats.
This ruin had not simply been abandoned.
It had been forgotten long enough for nature to claim it.
Zealth moved carefully, the black Netherrose sword still sheathed at his side. His boots pressed into thick moss, wet beneath each step. Near the edge of the ruin, he noticed the remains of a campsite.
A torn tent leaned against a broken wall. Its cloth had stiffened with age and dust. Rusted utensils lay around an old fire pit, scattered as if someone had left in a hurry—or never had the chance to leave at all.
Zealth crouched.
"Explorers? Maybe adventurers?" he murmured.
Probably NPCs.
Players won't give away such precious resources. They'll loot this dungeon dry until the last monster drop. And dungeons never run dry.
Also, this place felt old, ancient. The first player entered Jupiter01 seven years ago.
His boot shifted.
Something cracked beneath him.
Zealth froze.
Slowly, he looked down.
A bone lay beneath the vines.
Human.
His eyes adjusted to the dimness.
More bones hid under the moss. A rib cage beneath a fallen shield. Finger bones curled inside a rusted gauntlet. A skull rested inside a dented helmet, the empty visor pointed toward him like it had been waiting.
Armor pieces lay scattered around the camp.
Not arranged.
Not buried.
Dropped where their owners had fallen.
Zealth's hand moved to his sword.
"An exploring party," he whispered.
Then the ruin moved.
A scrape echoed from between the pillars.
Then another.
Stone against stone.
Bone against wet floor.
Zealth unsheathed the Netherrose sword.
The black blade slid free with a low, dark whisper. It drank what little light reached it, the faint red undertone pulsing once beneath the metal.
Ahead, figures stepped from the ruin.
Human-shaped.
No longer human.
Rotting skin hung from their bones in torn sheets. Moss grew across their shoulders and backs. Roots pierced through old leather armor and gray flesh, holding them together where time should have let them collapse. Their cloudy eyes glowed faint green.
Undead? Zombie?
Slow. Hungry. Dangerous.
A system label appeared.
Rotbound Villager
Undead soldier
A groan rolled through the chamber.
More answered.